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Thankfully, they all stopped. I grabbed for my messenger bag and pulled out a folder I’d stashed there before they’d arrived. I felt tired all of a sudden—beaten down.
“Just in case any of you is interested, I made copies of the basic spells page on Mr. Lange’s copier,” I said, handing them out. “Practice them at home. You never know….”
Tiffany snatched the page from my hand, folded it, and stuffed it into the side pocket of her camera bag without glancing at it. She walked out without another word. London took one and looked it ove
r, her expression serious. The rest came to me in a begrudging line, each of them taking her paper and tucking it safely away. I had no idea whether any of them would actually pull those pages out again, but how could they not? How could my friends not find this whole thing as intriguing as I did?
“Thanks, Reed,” Kiki said, placing the book down and taking her homework page, as it were.
“Yeah, sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted,” Constance added, her paper fluttering slightly as she took it.
I looked at them both—the two who knew they were potentially in more danger than the rest of us—and swallowed back a warning that would probably only make them feel worse.
“Thanks for humoring me, you guys,” I said.
They closed the doors behind them and about a minute later, I heard a loud group laugh as they waited for the elevator. Humiliation burned in my very bones. My friends were out there laughing at me.
“I don’t get it,” I said, turning to Noelle and Ivy.
“I know.” Ivy flopped into one of the dining chairs, which we’d pushed off to the side, and slumped so low her hair hung down the back almost to the seat. “I swear I felt different after the first time we said the incantation. And I know I made that painting fall and those doors slam.”
“Plus I didn’t start having the dreams until after I’d said it,” I added, leaning back against the table.
“Do you think there’s something in what London said?” Ivy mused, folding her hands over her flat stomach. “Maybe it didn’t work on Tiff and Amberly because they didn’t believe in it, and maybe having two or three nonbelievers in the group weakened the incantation?”
I stood up straight. “I was just thinking the same thing!”
“You guys have completely gone off the reservation,” Noelle said.
I flinched. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
“I don’t believe any of this crap either, but my candle relit,” she said, gesturing toward the pile of singed-wicked candles on a side table. “This is all one big ridiculous joke.”
Ivy and I looked at one another, stunned and annoyed.
“But you said it yourself,” Ivy countered, sitting up straight. “We got those candles at Pottery Barn, so how do you explain the fact that, like, eight and a half of them blew out, then relit?”
“I don’t know, Ivy,” Noelle said, throwing her hands up. “Maybe that gust of wind only squelched them for a second and then they came back. We’ve all seen that happen before. And maybe it hit Tiff’s, Amberly’s, and Portia’s more directly and that’s why theirs didn’t relight.”
“So how do you explain the wind?” I asked.
“This house is like a hundred years old,” Noelle said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s always been drafty.”
Ivy and I rolled our eyes in unison.
“Whatever. I don’t care if you guys agree with me,” Noelle said. She grabbed the candles up in bunches and walked over to a thick metal garbage can near the door. “All I know is, your experiment didn’t work. And there are still a bunch of nutbars out there who believe in this curse thing.” She punctuated her points by throwing the candles into the can with a clang, one by one. “So if you don’t mind, I’d like to focus our time and energy on finding out who those people are, and stopping them.”
She slapped her hands together.
“Because when I find them,” she said, “I am going to take absolute pleasure in personally kicking every one of their crazy little asses.”
Then she turned around and flounced over to her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. A moment later we heard the bath running and the stereo flick on.
Ivy sighed and pushed herself up out of her chair. “Is it lame that I really thought it was going to work?” she asked.
My eyes darted to the offending spoon. “No,” I said weakly, sadly. “I wanted it to work too.”
“Happy birthday, dear Reed! Happy birthday to you!”
